5 February 2021

I have a somewhat unique understanding of people and my relationship to them. Maybe not to unique I hope. I really don’t worry to much about the day people die, I am more concerned with when people where born. 

I don’t know the exact date my father died, except that it was sometime in August. I had pneumonia and at times I wanted to die myself. That might have been because I was so sick.  

I do know my father’s birthday, 30 April. Same with my grandma Aleda. January 11. My grandpa Lars. November 9. My grandma Zina. September 7. My other grandpa died when I was 2 so I never got to learn it. My mother is August 23. Her husband is August 21. I always get them confused. 

I know the birthday of all my siblings. 

I know the birthday of all my children. And their mother. 

My fiancé and some of her children. 

Why?

Because  it is more important to celebrate that someone lived than that someone died. 

“Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die,” Doctrine and Covenants 42:45

It is more important that you live, and live well in a way that benefits others,  everyone dies at some point. 

I would want the whole world to have a party because I lived so well. All the tears are happy tears. Not because I died but because I was born. You will see everyone again. Some people may not agree with me. You will. 

For example years ago when my grandpa Lars died, I got to know my youngest cousin. To give you some context, my cousin is the same age as my oldest son. 18 now. I’m 47. So 29 years difference. I’m the oldest of all the cousins on my mom’s side of the family. I wrote some emails with him for a while. Then, out of the blue I had a stroke. I finally started going through my email months later, I had over 4,000 emails. One was from my young cousin. It was so nice. He was basically saying good bye because he thought I might die. 

So. Be the person that people can be happy lived. That is, and should be more important than the fact you die.